


We Can't Fit(But Damned If We Didn't Try)

by monochromia



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 23:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19030252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monochromia/pseuds/monochromia
Summary: Our stories weren't supposed to intersect, but we're both here anyways so -- please take care.Continued from Partner of Mine.





	We Can't Fit(But Damned If We Didn't Try)

**Author's Note:**

> An experiment in inconsistent timelines  
> also, more lyrics

\---

“It’s over for both of us now isn’t it,” Mateusz sighs as he and Bae-in make their way to the airport, both of them exhausted and worn. 

“Is it ever really over?” Bae-in thumbs over the necklace Martin gave him, still dangling proudly from his neck. 

“I suppose not,” Mateusz checks his dog tags, a new one cheerfully added by a certain eager Swedish toplaner, “But it is an end.” 

\---

_We met on a field set ablaze_

\---

“Let’s burn them away yeah?” On the beaches of Jeju, where happy couples dance wildly despite the winter chill. A merrily crackling fire sit between them, marshmallows still on their fingers. 

“I-“ Martin clutched his wallet protectively, instinctively, at the reminder of the precious photo inside. The one where Tore hugged him close and told him he loved him. 

The most precious memory he has of Red on the stage. 

“We can do it,” Bae-in insists, already pulling out the blue lucky charm Petter bought him at Worlds. He’s already got a new one dangling from his neck, it’s time to do away with the old. 

But Martin has nothing yet, nothing more than a promise to jump from and he’s afraid. 

“I’ll catch you I promise,” Bae-in smiles, a roaring furnace proud as a lion, steel as strong as a samurai’s sword, and Martin chooses to believe. 

“Okay,” they take both of the papers in each others hands and together, throw them into the pyre that crackles brighter. Martin thinks it’s happiness that courses through him as he dips Bae-in and kisses him silly under the stars, ignoring the shadows dancing around the flames. 

\---

_They’ve been through different sorts of hell and so catch each other as best they can._

\---

“Martin,” Bae-in sighs as his hands gather downy brown hair that smells of rain and chapped lips brush against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” his ADC, his partner whispers, exhaustion rolling off of each word, “I’m sorry about everything.” About losing, about not being good enough, about all of my mistakes.

“Don’t,” he turns Martin’s head so he can look into watery blue eyes, “Don’t apologize for something we both messed up.” Us. This.

“What should I say?” Martin tilts his head, a smile worn thin and empty.

“What you want to,” their foreheads touch and they can smell the kebab they both shared just a couple hours ago off each other’s breath, “I’ll listen, I promise. We’re hurt and that’s okay. That’s okay here.” On Martin’s bed and deep blue sheets crumbled into debris. Bae-in’s hair ruffles as Martin breathes unsteadily, trying to force words out of the closing vice of his throat.

“I wish that I could move on and fit into you,” Martin’s fingers make grooves in Bae-in’s back, “I want to do it, I have done it before, but it just isn’t working.” Bae-in whines in understanding and runs their cheeks together. They don’t say the names in between them.

“I never learned, so that makes two of us,” Bae-in watches his breath turn into mist, “And I want to too. You’re nice, you’re good to me, it’s just, hard right now.”

“We should throw food at each other more then,” they both laugh at that and the memories of trying to catch sweet potato fries with their mouths. Chres won technically, since they both lost count and he caught the last fry.

“Maybe, maybe,” Bae-in looks into the stars faintly twinkling in Martin’s eyes and his smile is a supernova, “We were happy then weren’t we.”

“Yeah,” Martin softens and pinches Bae-in’s cheek fondly.

“Why do you bully me?” Bae-in whines dramatically and draws a low chuckle.

“I’m not bullying,” Martin insists and Bae-in glares for a few seconds before they break into smiles again. Fingers relax into palms that run gentle circles on Bae-in’s back.

“Ok?”

“Ok.” They fall onto pillows and tangle their legs together as they lull each other into sleep.

\---

_And a broken stopwatch on your bed._

\---

“How are you doing?” 

“Good,” Petter laughs loudly as Johan tackles down their coach. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” 

“Yeah, it’s good to be back with Johan,” Petter looks at the wild Swede affectionately, “We were going to be on the same team once, but things happened.” You happened. 

“Are you happy to be back with him?” With someone who speaks the same language, who matches all his wildness in a way that’s not a least bit strange. 

“Yeah,” a familiar warmth, but it’s not for Bae-in this time, and the loss makes him numb in grief. 

“That’s good,” a cough because Petter isn’t stupid, but he’s also honest and Bae-in loves and hates him for it. 

“What about you and Martin? He’s treating you alright?” 

“Yeah, he’s nice.” Bae-in debates telling Petter more. About how Martin memorized his takeout orders, how Martin sits next to him late playing duo-queue and pats Bae-in’s back. How Martin has tried to do everything right, do all the steps they need. But he doesn’t. Because they’ve both failed those steps right? 

They move on to safer topics after that, Martin massaging away the ice sunk into Bae-in’s shoulders. Petter misses it, too busy looking at his new partner’s antics and yelling back, dark blue eyes dancing under the fluorescents like fireflies under the moon.

When they hang up, when the small talk dries and they’re staring anywhere but each other, Bae-in shuts off the screen and buries his face into the ready arms behind him. 

“Was I a replacement to him?” He sobs, tears falling into damp hands, stained in familiar splotches. 

“Never, he loved you so much,” a kiss on the cheek, “you could never be a replacement to me or to him.” 

“You still miss Tore,” the accusation slices a wound he knows well now, but Bae-in deserves the truth. Bae-in hates that he wants to know. What good is the truth when it brings no joy to the man who finds it? 

“Every day,” tears barely stay inside wavering eyes, “I miss him, but I also think of you. How I want to move in with you.” How his greys matches Bae-in’s iron will and they’re so alike, it hurts. 

“Martin,” Bae-in whispers and lets his tears soak the Estonian’s shirt, “can you-  
Can you make me forget?“

“Yes,” And Bae-in lies back and lets himself be kissed, delicate little brushes painting his neck pink _never red never blue_ and closes his eyes, hands memorizing downy brown hair instead of silk. Maybe if he follows Martin’s twitches and moans, maybe things will be different. 

Maybe when he opens his eyes, he’ll be able to look at blue eyes without drowning. 

\---

_Does it matter that we know we’re dead?_

\---

One of the first things they do when they meet at the Korean bootcamp is go out for smokes, blowing puffs of ash into the air, watching it suspend itself in the frost until it fades. 

Bae-in never tells Martin that he’s using Petter’s brand, but Martin runs out of them soon enough and starts smoking Bae-in’s brand. It tastes different, but Martin finds he likes the taste. He likes the smile he gets from Bae-in more when he buys packs for them both at the convenience store. 

So he buys as much as he can reasonably carry back, so that they’ll both have enough for the split. 

And well, he didn’t expect to run out. 

“It’s okay,” Bae-in smile is hesitant and weary when they share the last pack, when they’re 0-9. Their smoking breaks becoming much more frequent and somber than the serene nights they spent in Seoul, enjoying each other’s company, “I can order more.” 

“That’s not the issue,” Martin sighs as they lean over the bridge, staring down into the river. His reflection is tired and Martin doesn’t like the fact his hair spikes instead of being slicked down. 

“I wish I was a better Hjarnan to you.” 

“Martin!” 

“I know,” he’s heard Bae-in tell him a million times in his own head, “I just wish--” 

“I wish I was your Tore too,” Bae-in snaps, “But that doesn’t mean that I’m not--” 

“I know,” he repeats, “We’re trying but--” 

“We will be,” Bae-in insists, the furnace that forges his steel spine blazing, “We will--” 

“But if we can’t?” Martin whispers, his rain clouds swirling and falling down his cheeks, “I've already failed you so much. What if I can't become a person that fits you?” 

\---

“Did loving him hurt you?” Jonas is keenly sensitive in a way none of his old teammates are and Martin can’t lie to him. 

“It did,” he puffs out a strand of smoke, “But he hurts with me and that was...that was fine.” 

“Martin,” 

“I’m fine Jonas,” he crushes the cigarette a little too hard in the ashtray and sighs, “I guess if there’s a silver lining, 

Letting go was much easier this time.” 

\---

“You’re Martin,” Bae-in’s smile is wet with Martin’s storm, “You’re the person who wakes up next to me every morning, who buys me food, who duo queues with me.

Martin don’t you get it? I like you just as you are--” 

“Even if I miss him? Even if I don’t always see you when I look next to me?” 

“You hate yourself for that more than I do,” puffs of tainted air brush his cheek, “And I want to see you smile. If talking about him and missing him is how we get there, then I’ll take it.” 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“You shouldn’t either,” a sigh, “You shouldn’t have to deal with my inability to have a different partner.” 

“What happened to you was--” 

“Something we can’t change now.” 

“It matters though, this wasn’t supposed to be your fate,” 

“I never believed in destiny,” a lie they both know, but one they both want to turn into a truth, “We have each other now. So I’ll catch you. No matter how many times it takes.” 

“You can’t do that forever.” Because I’ve been in a downpour all my career and it’s seeping into yours. 

“I will,” that fiery determination that dragged Bae-in to worlds semi-finals warms the numbness over Martin’s chest, “We will and it’ll be enough.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” as he surrenders to the hands around his neck. 

“To me, you always have.” Love can be a gift, unselfish and without reason, and when Bae-in places his lips over Martin’s, they drink each other’s poison as if it were ambrosia. 

\---

_We got addicted to a losing game_

\---

Another loss, another kiss behind stage, frustration and despair drawing blood and silver as Martin’s bitten lips throbs and stings when salt falls into it, but he rubs them against Bae-in anyways. Pushing his tongue inside the furnace, he tries to consume as much of Bae-in’s rage towards him, lets it burn until Bae-in is shaking his head and pushing him away. 

“Stop,” Bae-in cups his cheeks, “Stop doing that.” 

“I deserve it.” 

“This isn’t about that,” Bae-in tucks in head under his chin, “This isn’t what we’re about.” Reflexively, his hands coddle Bae-in’s fire-streaked hair. Inhale, exhale, 

“You know I don’t mind.” 

“You carry enough without me adding to that.” 

“You can’t hurt me worse,” 

“I don’t want to hurt you more,” Bae-in kisses the side of his jaw, a moment of forgiveness is a poor balm, but one Martin leans into gladly, “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.” 

“You don’t have to,” 

“You say that every time,” Bae-in kisses the back of his ear, never the lobe, “We don’t have to dance like this. Tell me.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you either,” a lie, when his hands slip under Bae-in’s shirt, gripping supple flesh until it’s pinkened _never red never blue_. 

“Believe me when I say I can take it, please,” Bae-in begs, “please tell me I can help you.” 

“Okay,” Martin tries not to break down as he leans against the wall and lets Bae-in kiss him sweet and slow. The support is not meant to be a hearth or fireplace but he manages to not sear Martin when they twine together, legs interlocking until who they are blurs into a messy heat, groans drowning out the thunderstorms rolling in.

\---

“You’re back,” 

“For now,” 

“Are...are you better?” 

“I think so.” 

“I’m glad you got a break from this,” 

“...so am I.” 

\---

“Here,” Bae-in rolls over one morning, Martin newly returned from somewhere, the faint scent of pineapple and tea still lingering on his shirt, “take this, before I forget.” 

“In case you need to burn this away too,” a hand-crafted lighter, silver with spiraling vines blooming into dainty buds. On the side, Martin can feel the Hangul he’s tried so hard to write. 김배인. Kim Bae-in. 

“Bae-in,” his breath curls like smoke and Bae-in wishes it would choke him. Martin didn’t deserve this. 

“I pushed you,” Bae-in murmurs into his pillow, muffled, but as loud as thunder, “And maybe you’d be better if I didn’t.” 

“Bae-in,” Martin repeats, stumbling to him in a haze, hugging him tightly to his chest. Bae-in tries to believe he’s lucid, tries to believe that it’s the plain truth when he whispers “I love you” into the crook of his neck before oblivion takes him. 

Martin dreams of red poppies and a skeletal hand that makes him wake in a start, but Bae-in’s already left. 

\---

_A scarlet letter still on your desk--_

\---

“Are you serious?” a too-familiar laugh rings in Martin’s ears, and reverberates much more loudly, cheer sparking from it more than he remembers and even though he doesn’t want to, he looks. 

Tore is still beautiful, cherry cheeks and soft lips, as Kasper has apparently said some sort of joke, a half grin around the Dane’s face as he looks back at Tore fondly. Tore reaches out, and Kasper loops himself under the proffered arm, folding into each other as neatly as a hand fan snapping shut, cracking something inside of Martin that he wishes remained sealed.

It’s not a hug, not yet, but it’s close and Tore seems ready to wait, night-dark eyes star-struck and shy as he bites his lips and whispers something into Kasper’s ear. 

Their laughter echoes down the studio as he stares at Tore’s back, remembering their last fight and how Tore swore up and down that he would move on and find someone better. Someone more skilled, someone who listens to him, 

Apparently he has. Of course he has because--

 _I’m a survivor_ blasts into his ears and makes him jump, limbs flailing in a confused panic until he turns and sees Bae-in holding up his phone, cord in hand. 

“You don’t have to listen,” Bae-in chides him, eyes heavy and sad, “You can walk away too.” 

A slim hand is offered and Martin takes it gratefully as they head out into the street to a coffee shop playing smooth jazz and where they share languid kisses on a couch, still exploring each other’s lips. Martin takes extra care that day to worship Bae-in in thanks, which kicks in Bae-in’s sense of one-upmanship and they end up coughing as they break apart after holding their breath for so long. Grinning dizzily up at the man above him, Martin steals one last kiss on his nose and Bae-in sniffs in surrender, both of them laughing. 

“Thank you,” Martin cups Bae-in’s cheeks, “for taking me here.” And away. 

“I’ll take care of you.” I promise. Not like him. 

“I know.” 

\---

He finds Bae-in brooding in his hoodie, comically large on the smaller man. Tapping his fingers gently, he inches closer and closer, until he’s nose to nose with Bae-in, mint clearing the air between them. The smaller mans sighs and cries quietly into his shoulder, 

“You’re back,” 

“I’m sorry,” Martin closes his eyes, shame gluing his eyelids closed, “I shouldn’t have come to you like that.” 

“I shouldn’t have left, I just,” 

“You did your best--” Martin pinches his ear, “don’t apologize for--.” 

“For not being enough?” 

“Yes! You tell me not to. Why won’t you do that for yourself?” 

“Because,” because I’ve always handled it. 

“Don’t sacrifice yourself for me,” Martin begs him, “If you need me to go, I’ll go.” 

“No,” that’s not what he meant, “no, don’t.” 

“Stay?” 

“Here,” Bae-in clings to him, not caring that his shampoo smells of eucalyptus. 

“I’ll be here until tomorrow,” Days are so much easier to promise than forevers. 

That’s all they need. 

\---

“You can’t keep doing this,” Chres looks at Martin, all their scars worn plain and clear in the dim streetlights. Three time’s the full curse it seems, when it comes to Chres’ botlanes. 

“Neither can you,” a thumb runs over Chres’ back where bruises have turned purple, “I guess we’re all broken.” 

\---

 _But they hurt and hurt and one day_ \--

\---

“I can’t anymore.” The words Martin dreads and wished beyond all hope would never come, falls from Bae-in’s lips and he can only bow his head in surrender. 

“I know,” they know too well, too much. 

“I’m sorry,” Bae-in takes his hands and pulls them both up so they’re looking into each other’s eyes, “I wish I could have been stronger for us.” 

“Don’t be,” Martin squeezes their hands, “Don’t--what we lost, was a lot. I can’t blame you for something I couldn’t be strong about either.” 

“I wish you’d be angry,” Bae-in sighs, he’s always sighing these days, “But you’re too nice for that.” 

“What good would it do us?” and maybe he has changed because red rage doesn’t burn up his heart or wrap around his mind like it used to, “What good would it do to you? I still want what would make you feel good Bae-in; even if I never delivered.” 

“You did your best; that’s all I asked for.” 

“And--is it okay that it wasn’t enough?” 

“Yes? No? I don’t know,” Bae-in buries himself into Martin again and he holds him there, deep in this house they’ve built with its thousand daggers under their feet, “Just--don’t forget me?” 

“Never.” That much is true and they cling to it, the last piece of a sunken ship, devouring each other one last time until they fall onto the bed, desperate. 

“Above all -- at least we tried.” 

\---

A thin box is slid over the table, long after their teammates have returned to their PCs. The novelty of someone new keeps them talking as they swap stories and they bear the winks and not-so-subtle shoves they draw them closer. 

“For me?” Bae-in asks, tilting his head. Martin coughs and mumbles, blushing furiously. It takes him a few tries and a particularly impressive blowfish impression to nod. 

“Thank you,” a smile, even though he has no idea what it could be. He can take anything can’t he? Anything except TheShy and even he feels like a hair’s breadth away now. 

Opening the lid, he sees it’s a necklace. Un-jeweled, but crystalline and brilliant. He loves it instantly. 

“It’s a globe,” Martin explains, feet shuffling against Bae-in’s, “Since our goal is Worlds right?” 

“Yes,” Bae-in picks up the thin, golden chain and the bright blue-green ball holding their promise, “Yes.” With a quirk of his brow, Martin flushes darker as he leans across the table to unclasp the chain and place it over Bae-in’s neck and heart. 

And they’re invincible under the Seoul lights, twinking bright. 

\---

_For a moment like this_

\---

“I need to not, not do this for a day,” Bae-in’s had a nightmare so Martin tries to make a daydream for him, “You won’t.” 

He fills the tub with warm water, sakura pink bubbles _never red never blue_ , and carries Bae-in on his back, the support sniffling into his shoulder. A tissue is held up and he blows into it, nose scrunching up cutely and Martin kisses it until he gets a weak giggle. 

“Martin,” he protests, but doesn’t fight when he’s hugged tightly, relishing their shared smoky breaths, and lets himself be stripped down and placed into the tub. 

“Oskar,” Martin asks over the phone, “Can you and Pawal sub in for us today?” 

“We can,” the Pole hums, indiscernible, “I’ll tell coach for you.” 

“Thank you,” Martin sighs in relief and hears a fond hum on the other end, 

“You can always ask us for help; you don’t have to take everything on yourself all the time you know?” 

“I know,” it’s just that I want to, “thanks, again.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

With that taken care of, Martin walks back into the bathroom to see Bae-in blowing more bubbles into the water, making the sakura swirl and fly before shyly turning away once he sees Martin watching. 

“Don’t stop,” he blurts out, blushing rose, “It was cute.” 

“I’m not cute,” Bae-in puffs up his chest, “I’m handsome.” 

“You’re that too,” Martin smiles and Bae-in turns so they’re face to face, lips brushing again, this time without anything to taint it and it doesn’t hurt when Bae-in pulls Martin into the tub, getting his clothes sodden. 

Nothing hurts when Bae-in’s laughing. 

\---

“Will you be back in the summer?” Martin asks, one last hope at dawn when Bae-in’s finished crying, after knowing that it is all and truly over for them both. 

“I don’t know,” he doesn’t know anything anymore. He’ll have time to think, during this break, but the clock on his career feels like it’s already in the eleventh hour. 

“I’ll support you no matter where you go,” Martin promises, “Even if you have to go back to Korea or to Spain or anywhere.” 

“You won’t be there with me,”

“I can call you every day,” 

“I don’t know if we could both handle that, but, you’re the only person I know who would try.” 

“Would you like me to?” 

“I’ll tell you later.” Someday. 

\---

_One last kiss at the door before --_

\---

“Bae-in, if this is good-bye. Just know -- I never regretted trying to love you. I regret a lot of things, but not what we put into this. Us.” 

“Martin,” a kiss that lingers at they bump cheeks and teeth and tears roll from one person’s eyes onto the other’s skin, “I don’t regret trying for you either, until the very end. Don’t give up yeah?” Exhausted, they both let the other slip out of their touch, bruised eyes and slow feet. 

No regrets, maybe. But the damage is unmistakable. 

“Same to you.” Oskar stands in the door to wipe their tears away, giving them both a fond kiss on the palm before pulling Martin back inside as Mateusz helps Bae-in put his luggage in the taxi. 

“You were a lighter person around him,” Oskar remarks as he guides them both back to the PCs, his tone even and kind, “Warmer.” 

“He kept me warm,” until he burned out, the lanterns of his eyes flickering out against the wind, “He was too selfless.” 

“He needed it -- needed to know that he was doing something for you,” Oskar pats him, eyes wise with years away from his half, “I needed that too once.” 

\---

“It is an end.” 

“I’m glad you have another beginning though, on FlyQuest,”

“Kikis...” 

“You deserve it,” the older man gives him a firm pat on the back, weariness a familiar coat weighing on him, “I’ll find my way back to kick your ass soon enough. Don’t worry about that.” Bae-in wants to jibe back, to reference Vitality Kikis who made miracles happen, or even UOL Kikis, unafraid and bold and proud, but he can’t. Not when the man before him is an extinguished shell of the lion he used to be. 

Instead he gives Mateusz a hug, tries to pour in what he has left of his furnace still forging steel, a new one in the works for the adorable support protegee he’s going to know soon. If he has a sunrise ahead of him, he can at least try and pull Matty towards his time, away from sunset. 

From the hug he gets back, Matty’s grateful for making the impossible just a little closer to possible. 

\---  
__  
_If we’re twisted and we’re broken_  
_We can make a mosaic instead of something left unspoken._  
_Even splintered, we’re not done,_  
_Until the end of the sun._

\---

“Ae-in? Did you land in America?” 

“Yeah! Okay I have to tell you about JayJ, this idiot eats 3 cupcakes in one sitting, like can you believe it?” 

“We know Chres,” 

“Okay that’s true but still? JayJ is still a growing kid, he needs to get more vegetables,” 

“I’m sure you can make him,” a low chuckle. 

“Yeah, hey is Raxxo treating you okay?” 

“He’s nicer than the other Oskars,” 

“Haha, that’s good. I’m going through security now so I’ll call you later okay?” 

“Yeah sure, talk to you later Bae-in.”

\---

_Listen, what remained in the silence_  
_Listen, only these simple moments_  
_Listen, also the heart has a voice_

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Ae-in = a gender neutral term of endearment that roughly translates to “dear”. Sounds a lot like Bae-in’s name.  
> We got addicted to a losing game = adapted from Eurovision 2019, “Arcade”  
> Listen ... = adapted from Eurovision 2012 “Kuula” which is Estonian for listen  
> Thousand daggers = house of flying daggers  
> I’m a Survivor = Destiny’s Child  
> For a moment = Kelly Clarkson “A moment like this” 
> 
> All other pieces are of my own writing.  
> **Wadid’s Rogue Jersey and Flyquest jersey main colors make up the colors of a globe
> 
> Special thanks to akira_marq for beta reading and editing this work.


End file.
